


The Tail of Mollymauk Tealeaf

by rhealoveless



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Fantasy AU, M/M, anyway read my take on the classic mermaid adventure, for a fantasy original??, remarkably canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-21 23:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14925455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhealoveless/pseuds/rhealoveless
Summary: will change title when I think of something betterI love mermaids I love my gay babes everything is great





	1. In which Caleb Fishes up one of the Proverbial Other Fish in the Sea

            The springtime had begun on land, but at sea the wind still blew bitterly cold and the sun still rose too late in the day.

            Caleb’s joints ached as he trekked down from his tiny hut to the docks, where his fishing boat, the _Salty Nein_ , was docked. The dockmaster, a retired navyman named Fjord, half-raised a hand in greeting as Caleb came down the dock.

            “Morning, Caleb,” he said cheerfully.

            “ _Ja_ , good morning,” Caleb answered quickly, not even glancing at the man as he went by. He lit the _Nein_ ’s lantern with one of the dock lanterns. Even now, the fire his magic produced unnerved him. It was too early yet to see by the light of the rising sun, but fish bit better at sunrise and sunset, so many fishermen were setting off, spots of lantern light dotting across the harbor as they moved towards the bay.

            He unmoored the _Nein_ , raised her sails, and ducked under the boom as it came about. She started tacking across the harbor, the now-familiar motions repetitive, familiar, and soothing. The _Nein_ wasn’t the most glamorous boat in the harbor. Hell, she wasn’t even the most glamorous of the fishing boats. She had a layer of mud ground into almost every inch of her, and her name had been crudely carved into her side with a pocket knife. Her sail had been patched several times, and generally not with plain canvas. Bright squares of colored canvas dotted her sail. Sometimes, when the light caught behind it, they shone like jewels and cast rainbows down onto the boat. Sometimes, when she caught the wind right, she would cut across the waves and the sea would spray a mist into the air, and it felt like flying across the bay. That was glamorous enough for Caleb.

            This, however, was not one of those mornings. It was dreary and dark and all his scars seemed to be on fire again from the cold wind. The _Nein_ struggled against him, and the wind seemed to be entirely undecided about which direction it wanted to come from. He hadn’t left the harbor yet, but he could already tell it would be a wretched day, likely nothing more than enough fish to pay for his day’s living, and he wanted nothing more than to turn the _Nein_ around. He could be back in bed, Frumpkin curled up by his side, in less than half an hour, he figured. But there was the loan for the boat to pay off. There was the woman who bought his fish, Jester, and the street rat who probably wouldn’t eat anything if he didn’t slip her a fish.

            The _Nein_ left the mouth of the harbor just as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon. Squinting against the light, he wondered how he’d ended up with so many connections to people. He’d started fishing to avoid that, after all.

            He dropped his nets, feeling a spark of gratitude at the heavy callouses that made this an easy process. The first month of work had rubbed his hands raw every day. Now, he hardly noticed the fibers running through his fingers.

            The early-morning mist slowly burned off as the sun climbed a bit higher. If Caleb were a true fisherman, he would have been out most of the night, and stay out until noon. He was here to recover, really, and so fished to keep a roof over his head. He typically stayed out until ten. If he did a little magic to call fish to him occasionally, nobody would be the wiser. He tried not to, though. He still wasn’t sure if he trusted himself with magic.

            He was considering pulling in the nets for the day—the catches had been poor the past few days, and without a storm it seemed unlikely they’d improve—when a heavy tug at his net pulled the whole boat to the side, upwind.

            “ _Scheiße_ ,” he said, catching his balance and dashing to the net. If it were a large, struggling fish, he might have to cut the net—better to lose the net than the _Nein_ —but he hated to do that. Nets were expensive. He hauled in the net quickly, but there was no more resistance than an unusually full haul. Trout and a few bass, his usual haul, fell to the deck as he pulled the nets in. There was something large in it—too heavy by far for any fish in the bay.

            He saw the face first—a humanoid face, and he almost dropped the net in pure shock. He caught it again, and started pulling the body onboard, fingers shaking. A _corpse_ , he fished up a _corpse_.

            That’s when he realized that the face was purple, the body had a tail instead of legs, and the eyes fluttered open to stare at him.

            This time, he did drop the net. On purpose.

 

            Caleb pushed the rudder, hard, jibing the mainsail. He wished he were on land where he could simply walk away, but his boat was not built for this type of action—for turning and fleeing, that is.

            The boat tipped, and the man’s head poked over the side of the boat, followed by his arms, as he clung to the side.

            “Please let go of my boat,” Caleb said tersely.

            The man’s eyes were wide and empty of expression—he had no pupils, the way that Tieflings didn’t, but even so they lacked emotion in a way that kept Caleb from looking at the head on.

            The _Nein_ came about, merman in tow, and started heading for the harbor.

            “You cannot come into town with me,” Caleb said. “You have a tail. They’d _kill_ you, and maybe me, too.”

            The man’s grip slipped a bit, and his head lolled to the side slightly.

            “ _Scheiße._ ” Caleb ducked under the boom and gripped the man’s forearm in his own. His skin was cold and clammy to the touch, and Caleb tried not to shiver. The moment the man’s arm was in his, however, the man’s grip evaporated and he passed out.

           Caleb hesitated, then saw the body in the water—there was a tail, but not the fishtail that marked mermen. It was just a Tiefling tail, with legs and, he quickly looked away, no clothes. He pulled the man into the boat, with difficulty.

            “How did you get out there?” he asked the body, before digging through the box of emergency supplies to find an old sail, with even more repairs to it than the current one, which he wrapped around the man.

 

            The docks were empty when Caleb landed, so nobody was there to see him carrying an unconscious man along with his daily catch. Caleb brought the man to the doctor in town, left a bit of coin to pay for care, and hurried home, wishing that he could forget.


	2. In Which Nott Acquires a Necklace

_\--2 years later--_

 

            Caleb was going to the circus.

            He was going to the circus because Nott had begged him, and Nott didn’t usually ask for all that much, and making Nott happy brought him joy. He was not as happy about the crowds they’d inevitably encounter, or about the outrageous entrance fees they’d most likely charge, or the large number of strangers in their little fishing town.

            He carried Nott on his shoulders—while she had grown in the past few years, now more of an adult goblin than a kid, she was still easy enough to carry. Besides, Caleb had grown tough with the years of hauling nets.

            They both scanned the crowds instinctively, Nott for trinkets to steal, Caleb for signs of trouble. He saw Fjord heading towards the main tent, and felt a little more at ease than before. They moved through the crowd slowly, picking their way through emptier pockets, which meant that Caleb saw the man before the man saw him.

            It was the merman—the corpse—the Tiefling that Caleb had fished out of the sea just over two years ago. Caleb froze for a moment, only moving again when Nott asked, “Everything okay, Caleb?”

            “Uh, _ja_ , just—why don’t you explore for a bit on your own? I want to take a look at something.”

            “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Nott asked.

            “No, that’s alright, I’ll just be over there. We can go into the main tent together when the show starts.”

            “Well, all right then,” Nott said skeptically, and started weaving between people in the crowd.

            Caleb made his way over to the man, who appeared to be giving a woman a tarot card reading, sitting in the dust. He had tattoos, now, climbing up his neck, and his horns jangled with golden rings and chains. His coat—Caleb’s heart clenched—was made from the sail Caleb had wrapped him in, but now embroidered with bright colors and gold and silver threads, adding symbols and prayers to the gods.

            The Tiefling picked up the cards, and gave a slight bow to the woman as she got up and walked away. He looked up at Caleb, and held up the deck invitingly.

            “Have a question you want answered, darling?” he asked, smiling invitingly.

            Caleb felt himself beginning to flush, and he said, “Uh, well, I suppose—not the kind of question you mean, though. Um—”

            “I don’t currently have plans for tonight,” the Tiefling said, eyeing Caleb. “If that’s what you wanted to ask.” He stood up and stretched.

            Even more red, Caleb said, “No, that’s not it, I just wanted to know where you’re from.”

            The Tiefling brushed the dust off his coat, looking at Caleb more carefully. “The open road birthed me, my friend, and it will take me when I die. Why?”

            “I just—I thought I’d seen you before. I must have been mistaken.”

            “The show starts soon,” the Tiefling said, suddenly noticeable colder. “If you want to see it, you’d best go in.”

            Caleb left, found Nott and headed towards the tent, half-listening as Nott described the woman off whom she’d managed to lift a necklace.

            The circus ended in Hell, with two people dead and small group of them left to clean up the mess. Jester and Fjord and Nott and him were there, along with the Tiefling, a very large woman, and a smaller one whose fists moved like lightning.

            “Please return to your homes—or to the inn if you’re from out of town,” a guardsman told them, and they travelled together in a worn-out pack. The Tiefling—Mollymauk, he had said—kept away from Caleb. Caleb didn’t mind. He was trying to wrestle his mind into a sense of order. He slipped away from the group, taking a back road towards the harbor and his home, so that he wouldn’t have to talk to Fjord.

            He didn’t like this turn his life was taking.

            He didn’t get up early the next day to go fishing, though the break from his routine chafed at the back of his mind. Fjord did knock on his door, though, about halfway through the morning.

            “Morning, Caleb,” he said, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “Mind if we talk for a bit?”

            “Uh—sure, go ahead,” Caleb said. After a moment’s pause, he realized what Fjord meant, and said, “oh—do you want to come in?”

            “Much obliged,” Fjord answered. “Listen. Something seems off about what happened last night.”

            “Do you mean before or after the little girl sang a man into turning into a flesh-eating zombie?”

            “After. I’m just not quite comfortable with the guard putting us on house arrest. I want to get to the bottom of this, and I’m hoping that you might help me. You’re my friend, after all.”

            “I am?” Caleb asked.

            Fjord looked at him strangely. “We’ve worked together for four years.”

            “Uh, _ja_ , we are friends. I also think we should do a bit of investigating. I think those people from the circus might know something.”

            “They might, yes. You know some of the others who are involved, too, right? Would you be interested inviting them along, too?”

            “Nott and Jester, yes, I think they would be willing to come.”

            “All righty, then. Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen i figured molly not talking and being "empty" would give it away but if not here's your two year time leap enjoy


	3. In Which an Idea for Speeding Up Travel is Proposed

            The circus was disbanded.

            The circus was disbanded because Kylrie had betrayed them.

            Some wizard claimed to have met Mollymauk before, and the circus was disbanded because Kylrie had betrayed them.

            “Let’s travel together,” Jester said happily. Mollymauk felt hollow. Everything he knew in life was over, and he didn’t know what to do. Yasha was looking at him hopefully. Maybe not everything. Yasha would go with him. He wasn’t sure where he’d go yet. He wondered if he _should_ travel with this group, but there was the wizard to worry about…

            “I’d like that,” Yasha said. It took a moment for Mollymauk to realize she was talking to the group. There was no way he would go off on his own. If Yasha travelled with these people? He would, too. At least at first.

            “I’ll give it a try,” he said, shrugging light-heartedly.

            In the end, they all agreed to travel together.

 

            He tried avoiding the wizard at first, but that lasted all of an hour before he realized it was impossible. They travelled in a very small cart, for one. For another, for all that the wizard was quiet and dirty and looked like he wished he could be anywhere else, he had a presence. Or maybe Mollymauk was just nervous. His name was Caleb. Mollymauk needed to remember that he was a person with a name, and possibly he wasn’t a threat from his unknown past life.

            They set up a camp for the night. Mollymauk volunteered to take the first watch, and Caleb offered to join him. Unable to think of a polite way to refuse, Mollymauk grinned and said, “I’d love the company.”

            The others settled down for the night. Molly sat on a log a little ways from the fire, running a stone down the length of his blade and a few minutes later Caleb sat next to him. Molly continued sharpening his blades, using the motion to conceal the slight tremor in his hands. His tail was twitching slightly still, but judging by Caleb’s squinting, he couldn’t see anyway.

            Minutes passed, where Molly just waited on edge for Caleb to accuse him of something—killing and eating his child, or owing him money, or being his lover. Finally, Molly said, “Is there something you wanted, sweetheart?”

            Caleb turned to look at him, his face completely neutral. “What do you mean?”

            Molly shrugged. “You’re the one who volunteered to take watch with me. Just wanted to admire me in the firelight?”

            Caleb looked at the ground, a bit of a flush appearing on his face. “No.”

            “Shame. It does wonders for my complexion.”

            They sat in silence for a little bit longer, before Caleb said, “Your coat is interesting. With the colors and all. Where did you get it?”

            Caleb _knew_ something about where Molly came from. Molly could tell, now, for sure. “One of the carnies gave it to me,” he lied calmly. “I added the embroidery, though. Something to do while travelling.”

            “It looks like it’s canvas.”

            “It is. Waterproofed. Useful, since we didn’t have covers on the wagons.”

            Caleb nodded quickly. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s just—I have a fishing boat, see, and that sort of waterproofed canvas is what we use for sails. If you look at the colors, too, they’ve been sewn in and then sealed with beeswax. We do that to keep it waterproof, and keep it from tearing in the wind.”

            “I don’t know what it was before it was a coat,” Molly said carefully. “It might’ve been a sail at one point.”

            “The colors are interesting, too,” Caleb continued. “Most sailors patch the canvas with the same color—it’s a bit shameful, see, to have to patch a sail instead of replace it. It makes your craft a bit more sluggish. My boat, though, I patched her sails with very colorful canvas at first because it’s all I could find. But I liked it. My boat has a sail that looks just like your coat.”

            Caleb turned and looked at Molly again. Molly had frozen in his work for a moment, but turned back to it when Caleb looked at him.

            “Are you accusing me of a fashion faux pas, or of somehow stealing the sail off your boat without you noticing?”

            “I’m accusing you of lying, Mollymauk Tealeaf. And I’d like to know the truth.”

            “You’ve told me very little truth yourself, Caleb Widogast. Seems to me you already expect me to tell you a story you already know.”

            They sat in silence for a moment, before Caleb said, “So you do remember?”

            Molly set his sharpening stone down, keeping a light grip on the scimitars. “Remember what, sweetheart?”

            “The sea. Drowning. Me.”

            Molly considered telling more lies, but Caleb’s voice was getting an edge to it that Molly didn’t like, and he hadn’t managed to lie to Caleb yet.

            “Two years ago I woke up at a public clinic, lying on sail cloth. They had to pump water out of my lungs. I couldn’t walk for weeks, and I couldn’t talk for months. Waking up? That’s my earliest memory. They say that a fisherman pulled me out of the sea. I don’t know what the bastard that was in this body before me did to get himself dumped into the sea. And honestly? I don’t want to know. So please don’t tell me.”

            “I won’t tell you, then,” Caleb said. “I know only a little more than you. I was the fisherman. The sail was my boat’s spare. Still haven’t replaced it.”

            They sat in silence for a long moment, before Molly said, “I hope you weren’t planning on taking it back. I don’t think it’d catch the wind very well anymore.”

            “I was thinking we could use it speed up the cart,” Caleb deadpanned. It took Molly a moment to understand what he said.

            “Did you just tell a joke?”

            “I never joke."

            “Shame. It was a good one.”

            They sat in silence another few minutes, before Molly finally said, “Don’t tell the others. Please. It’s my story, and I’d rather be the one to tell it.”

            “Do what you want,” Caleb answered. “I don’t care.”

 


	4. In Which Yasha Goes for a Swim

            The storm began with a low rumble of thunder.

            Yasha was on watch with Beau, the latter staring into the distance silently. Yasha sighed lightly, and held out her hands to let the water pool up inside. She peered at her own reflection in the water’s surface. It morphed into another face, which looked into Yasha’s eyes. Yasha dropped the bit of water onto the ground, and stood up.

            “Yash?” Beau asked, glancing up at the other woman.

            “I—have some things I need to take care of,” Yasha said.

            Beau’s face fell, and she quickly turned back to the woods. “Oh. Yeah, cool. Be—you know, be safe.”

            “Yes,” Yasha said. “I am…always safe…”

            “Yeah, that’s—that’s a really good way to live your life, man.”

            “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

            Beau’s eyes locked with Yasha’s briefly, before she nodded. Yasha put her things into her pack. She rested a hand on Mollymauk’s forehead for a moment, before she walked out into the storm.

            Yasha walked confidently despite the darkness and the rain, trusting her sixth sense that always led her to water. It was little more than a stream, shallow and moving fast. Too shallow, really. She eyed it critically for a long moment, before lightly jogging along its shoreline.

            It took her three hours to reach a point where it slowed and broadened. She pulled off her clothes, grateful it was still dark, and tucked her clothes inside her bag. After adjusting the straps to sit easily against her back, she waded into the water.

            “All right,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

            She plunged herself into the water, opening her eyes and beginning to swim forwards. As she started moving, her skin rippled and smoothed. She started kicking with her legs as one, and they slowly grew together. The mottled patches that matched the orcas she was descended from slowly darkened, and she could feel her rib cage expanding as her lungs became more powerful.

            She breached the surface for a full gasp of air, before plunging into the river and swimming downstream as fast as she was able. She wished she were back with the others.

\---

            In camp, Beau watched the storm distantly. She heard some of the others wake up when it started raining, and drag their bedrolls underneath shelter.

            “Join me,” Mollymauk said lightly, from underneath the cart. “We can cuddle!”

            Beau didn’t think he’d noticed, yet, that Yasha had disappeared. Nott crawled underneath with him, but the others huddled by themselves under trees, or didn’t seem to notice. When her watch was over, Beau lay down in the open. She was already soaked through, so what more could a little rain do?

 

            In the morning, Beau woke to find Mollymauk’s face inches from her own.

            “Fucking—” she said loudly, launching herself backwards and swinging wildly for his face. He dodged.

            “That’s not very friendly,” he said, grinning at her.

            “What the hell, man?” she gasped, dropping her fists.

            “Yasha was on watch with you, right? Did she—you know. Yasha?”

            Beau’s breathing calmed and she nodded, pulling her sopping hair out of her eyes. The storm had turned into a drizzle. “She left early last night.”

            “Thanks, sweetheart. Here—” he said, and pulled her hair up into a top knot, which he tied off. She stayed perfectly still while he worked, only moving when he stepped away from her.

            She touched the top of her head. “Oh. Uh—thanks.”

            He winked at her, and went to help Jester brush out the horses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry these chapters are so short I've been focusing on my novel but here have some lesbians. I love them. It's thunderstorming where I am right now and I am LIVING for it, so Yasha gets her turn.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos if you want me to work on my actual novel instead of writing fanfic
> 
> comment if you want me to chase the fleeting satisfaction of validation from strangers instead
> 
> my tumblr is nebulousboundaries if you want to scream at me


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